Company Non Nova's L'aprés- midi d'un Foehn @ The Ark

The audience don’t file so much as totter, scamper, crawl and clamber into the circular theatre at The Ark in Temple Bar. They’re a rambunctious bunch and there’s much shushing and kerfuffling as they take their seats. But they’re here to be entertained dammit, and they’re excited.

Their exuberance is at odds with the absolute calm of the man they’ve come to see. Waiting in a circle of (yet) motionless wind fans and spotlights for the children to settle themselves, he cuts a serious and sombre figure, clad in a dark greatcoat and woollen hat. He pulls a pair of scissors from his pocket and begins to slice through a small, red plastic bag, discarding the off-cuttings, before producing sellotape and assembling the several shapes he’s created.

The fans turned on, the creator steps back, leaving the audience to witness the end result of this adroitly-performed bit of arts and crafts. As the wind in the circle of now-whirring fans swells, we can see it’s a rotund little bag-puppet, the Pillsbury doughboy of shopping carriers. His belly billows out, filling with air, and his arms wave and sway in a disarmingly lifelike manner as he circles and twirls slowly ceiling-ward to the strains of Debussy.

Company Non Nova’s 'L’aprés-mid d’un Foehn' is a winsome and masterfully-executed piece of whimsy. Performer Jean-Louis Ouvrard aptly enacts the role of a sorcerer figure, conjuring life out of inert plastic with ferocious concentration. The stage is soon full of these playful bag creatures, capricious little fellows in a range of chipper colours who form a whirlpool of pirouettes and duets before all piling into an upturned umbrella to loll about chaotically.

Ouvrard seems deeply emotionally invested in his creations, watching closely to see how they travel on the wind, walking amongst them, prodding lollygaggers with the brolly, and flicking the more wayward members of the group away when they attach themselves to his ankles and shoulders. At other moments, he shows more tenderness, lying down and allowing the bag-puppets free rein to clamber over him like children.

There are shades of subtlety to his interaction with these wind-fuelled creatures, and hints of darkness that distinguish 'L’aprés-midi' from blander children’s entertainments that have been infected with the Walt Disney ethos of happy endings. There’s little in the way of a happy ending for Ouvrard’s offspring; suffice to say, the scissors are involved and no puppet makes it out alive. It’s a humorous and slightly shocking conclusion to a performance that mixes the dark with the light to make a sophisticated piece of child’s theatre that will disarm adults with its dexterity and wit.

Words Rachel Donnelly (@racklette)

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